


Pirouettes

by ardentstreet



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 23:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16505042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentstreet/pseuds/ardentstreet
Summary: Newton is a pianist at a ballet company.





	Pirouettes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riwox](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=riwox).



> My dear riwox made a beautiful piece of art to go with this, be sure to check it out [here](http://ardentstreet.tumblr.com/post/179714767536/ive-had-the-pleasure-to-collaborate-with-my-love)!
> 
> I also recommend [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZGGNkB-vzo) for background music.

 

 

Newt sees his job as what it is on most days. It’s not the best job in the world, but it’s one he does with the minimum of annoyance and regular sparks of fun thrown into the mix. He plays the piano for a fixed amount of hours, and sometimes he’ll be playing the same minute-long fragment of a piece for his whole shift. If it wasn’t for the air-conditioning in the practice room, he would probably slowly go insane from the heat of twenty to thirty people continuously exercising in the same room - sweat and, often enough, tears of exhaustion condensing steadily into the air. But luckily enough, the ballet company was off well enough for the rooms to be in good shape. He and the other pianist enjoy their time and grow more grateful for it whenever their friends share their tales of struggling in strict orchestras and stories of fighting over freelance work for advertisement jingles.

It’s the age of modern technology everywhere, yet a proper ballet company can’t do without a pianist at their call during practice and rehearsals. Recordings can be slowed down and may be easy to rewind, but it doesn’t match up to the quick action Newt can take when a tiny segment of a song needs to be played again and again, at different speeds, varying pick-up points or - when he rehearses with the singers - in different keys. He shares the job with Tendo Choi, a fellow musician he’d known since college. They regularly switch up who takes the late shifts in this environment where the need for musical accompanying is needed pretty much twelve hours a day. While Newt does not mind the late shift and its perks, he still needs to run his errands and maintain the few friendships he has managed to cling onto over the years. Lucky enough, the bond with Tendo is one of them and Newt tends to stick around some more when his colleague takes over the seat at the piano in the late afternoon.

Newt hadn’t really made magnificent plans for his career. Considering his family history, embarking on a career in music had been a given. His father had made sure the funding for a music college and his own instruments was not a factor he had to consider; and after school lessons throughout his childhood and teenage years had bullet-proofed him for any challenges higher education posed. Becoming a pianist for the ballet company was something that, then, simply happened – first as a side-job in his senior year and then as his sole occupation after graduating. They were generous enough to throw in a little pay raise, too, and so he’d just stuck around.

But the late shifts Newt really doesn’t mind as much as some people at his age maybe would. In the evening hours, solo parts are rehearsed and dancers step in for additional training without the instructor barking orders and corrections at them. He takes breaks with the performers, jokes with them and, if they will, gets playful on the piano while they improvise, practice jumps and strides or stretch their muscles.  
With the rare exclusion of a night off, that’s also when Hermann drops in again, more at ease than he seems to be when partaking in the strict morning classes.  
Now let’s make that clear – Newton has tried asking Hermann out, or so he thinks. He’s been out and about with Hermann a few times, sometimes after the day’s work is done or on the odd lunch break. But somehow, Newt not even once manages to make those outing take on a romantic turn. When he walks Hermann to his subway stop once a while, they talk about the upcoming stage play or the eccentric moods their director gets into. He will watch Hermann just give the tiniest wince as he takes cautious steps, suffering almost silently through bruised toes and sore muscles. He is, most of the time, too aware of how badly Hermann needs to get home to rest for the next exhausting day. Not really a master at small talk like Newt has become throughout his years in America, Hermann has on at least two occasions talked Newt through the regimen of ice baths and heating pads his feet receive every night. At least twice, as well, Newt has asked Hermann out for dinner, maybe a bit too casually for Hermann to understand it as the invitation it was, and Hermann politely declined, giving him a quick talk about the perfectly portioned nutritional meals he has stacked at home to optimize his performance. So when Hermann’s subway leaves with the tall dancer inside it, Newt walks off to the pizza joint by himself. From what he has seen, Hermann lives on a steady perfectionist diet of fruit, salad, rice and nuts. One time, Newt had sat down next to Hermann, sandwich in hand, gathering up the courage to ask Hermann what he’s doing on the weekend. “Family’s coming.”, Hermann had duly replied, biting into a granola bar and bending over to massage his aching calf.  
But that doesn’t mean Hermann avoids him or straight-out rejects him, and it never ends to leave Newt confused on whether he stands a chance or not.

It’s a Friday evening when Newt has the late shift again and he’s idly playing away while four dancers practice their Swan Lake parts. The Dance of the Young Swans must be one of the pieces Newt has played a billion times, but the performance that goes with it is so amusing – especially in its early rehearsal stages – that Newt doesn’t mind too much. The four girls work on giving a homogenous performance while conjoined by their hands, and Newt enthusiastically applauds them whenever they make it through the entire passage without losing synchronicity. That’s why he’s popular with almost all the dancers – he cheers them on and they see him, in part, as on their team, and not on the instructor’s or the director’s side. He starts the song over and over for them as often as they demand it, and his hands are so used to the song that he doesn’t have the look at the sheet music. He watches their slender, toned legs and strung postures, fascinated despite knowing the performance well. Slowly now, the ladies begin to tire and seem ready to call it a day as the door to the practice hall swings open.  
Newt grins to himself and quickly swings his hands into playing a dramatic wedding march, hitting the piano keys with new-found vigor. Hermann glares at him as he walks through the door, while two of the girls immediately break into laughter and take their turn at applauding Newt for his cockiness. Newt wishes his jokes would resonate half as well with Hermann as they do with them, but he never tires of the challenge.

The ladies pack up their bags and shuffle past the solo dancer, calling their Good Nights out to Newt and patting Hermann on the shoulder. Hermann mutters a greeting and walks by, dropping his gym bag nearby the wall-length mirror with a thud. He does some quick stretches and Newt takes the opportunity to stretch his legs and, more importantly, his fingers as well. He knows it’s not Hermann’s first practice of the day by any means, but warming his muscles every time is important. And Newt really doesn’t mind the view as Hermann sits down, spreads his legs wide, toes pointed, leaning over to each side gracefully. He sometimes wonders how the dancers can stand their reflection looking back at them all day.

“How ya doin’, Hermann?”, Newt asks, mustering Hermann’s graceful movements in the mirror.

“Good enough for it being 8 o’ clock”, Hermann sighs in reply, and Newt takes it as his hint to get behind the piano. His eyes don’t leave Hermann, who brings his legs together and bends forward to grab his calves, his back in a flawless bow. Setting his fingers on the keys, Newt plays a slow song. He can almost see the process of Hermann’s movements becoming more languid, more flowing, and he indulges in the fantasy that he’s doing it for him. As many of the dancers do, Hermann also bundles up in layers of thin yet warm clothing which he gradually looses throughout practice once he has warmed up. Despite a soft wrap-around cardigan and tattered leg-warmers still being on him on top of his black top and grey leggings, Newt can see the sinewy muscles move on the slender, elegant frame.

Before he knew Hermann a little better, he mistook him for someone who would play the villain in a stage play, but it only took him a few classes of accompanying the man’s dance to see what lay beneath and made the director recruit him as the lead. When Hermann dances, he suddenly takes on a face of passionate, delicate suffering. It seems only fair that he is the first man to play the white swan, transforming innocence and love into the ultimate sacrifice. If Newt was honest to himself, it were the Swan Lake rehearsals that took a stab at his heart and left a terrible longing. It almost makes him feel guilty that he admires Hermann the most when he puts on a face of pure sorrow and distress. But oh, this man suffers so beautifully.  
Sometimes, Newt’s thoughts get carried away. He can not dance for the life of it, but from the countless repetitions, he knows the countering steps too well, and sometimes imagines himself as the one who lifts, catches and twirls Hermann while the dancer seems to be lost in the emotion of the play.

 

 

Despite the distraction, Newt effortlessly slides into the musical number Hermann has been rehearsing as of late. Even on pointe shoes, Hermann makes everything look so much more effortless than the rest of the male dancers. He flows through the motions, tilting his head in perfect unison with every turn. Newt glances at him whenever he can, admiring how the visible tension in the man’s legs never falters a second to early.

He stares a little too long when the song is finished, but quickly starts from the beginning after Hermann clears his throat.  
By the fourth repetition, Newt catches Hermann looking back at him through the mirror’s reflection. Nonchalantly, Newt lowers his eyes to the piano again and keeps playing. As the song finishes once again, Hermann swings into a series of pirouettes, striding to the piano in effortless-looking twirls. He’s showing off, Newt thinks, smiling to himself and playing a playful tune. Hermann stops by the piano, his feet coming to a halt with a sharp tap, as he lifts himself into a penché, playfully resting a hand on the polished wood.

Newt lets his hands ghost over the high notes some more, nothing more than a soft, sweet trinkle of sounds. Hermann holds the position, a slight smile on his lips. He keeps his eyes on Newt as he lifts his leg forward in perfection tension, barely a tremble visible in the stretched tone of his leg. He lifts it all the way, holding his right arm to the underside of his leg, not truly in need of the support. Newt stares and swallows hard, unsure if Hermann is displaying the perfect little bulge in his leggings on purpose, or if years of practice have taken all shyness away. The cardigan has slipped off his left shoulder, and Newt can see a bit of his flushed chest.

“You watch me intensely, Mr. Geiszler.”

Newt barely misses a key, but indeed just barely so – “Well, I have to see where we’re going today, don’t I?”

Hermann gives him another one of those rare smiles.  
“Indeed, where are we going then?”, Hermann asks, with an ever so slight roll of his shoulders.

Newt wants to reply something cheeky, but instead slips into playing Für Elise, a well-known favourite of his to play. His eyes never leave Hermann, who slowly sets his leg down and spreads his arms in elegance. He steps forward, going through motions Newt fails to recognize as any of their well-studied dances. Instead, Hermann dances solely to what Newt is playing, matching the pace of his motions to Newt hitting the keys gently. Newt has to tear his eyes away as the pace quickens – he knows the song by heart, could play it in his sleep, but this moment feels so strangely intimate that it is tempting his hands to stray. Any moment now, Newt thinks, he’ll just turn into a swan and dash away. As the song takes on a heavier tone, Hermann is letting his movements drift back towards Newt. The pianist looks up again to see the mournful expressions again that he loves so much on Hermann. He leans far back, one outstretched hand turned towards Newt, and when Newt locks eyes with Hermann again, his finger slips at the final note. He lets out a displeased grunt and sees a small frown forming between Hermann’s brows.

“Shit, I’m sorry-“, Newt curses.

Hermann carefully brings himself back into a straight pose.  
“Don’t be”, he gently says, “You’ve stayed well beyond your hours.”

Newt glances at the clock, and Hermann is right. It is past nine. Hermann sits down to the floor and Newt walks over, flopping down next to him. As Hermann unties his pointe shoes, Newt wants to say something, anything that will acknowledge the moment he feels they just shared before his clumsy slip. Instead, he carefully reaches for Hermann’s ankle, wrapping a hand over the tender skin that is now free from the constricting shoe. He gently smooths his thumbs over the instep of his foot, his other fingers carefully pressing into the sole. Hermann doesn’t pull back; instead he slowly makes work of freeing his other foot. There is just the tiniest bit of dampness to the skin, but nothing about the dancer’s foot seems unpleasant. Newt rubs it gently, with just a small amount of pressure, avoiding a toe that looks painfully bruised. He knows these injuries all too well from all the years spent in these halls, aware of the steady pain accompanying the dancers. Aware of the constant pain accompanying Hermann. The later does not flinch, trusting Newt to know how to avoid his bruises.

“I’ve loved playing Für Elise since my childhood,”, Newt starts, not lifting his gaze from the delicate arch of Hermann’s foot. Hermann leans back on his outstretched hands, tilting his head and nodding, and when Newt catches the sight, he can not tell whether he is nodding in agreement to his statement or to the welcome touch. Gently, Hermann draws his foot back and then brings the other one to rest in Newt’s lap.

Ask him, a small voice in the back of Newt’s head urges. Properly this time. As he runs his thumb over the pad of Hermann’s foot, he swallows hard.

,,I was wondering, if, you know - I know you probably wanna get home, but –“

,,Yes.”, Hermann swiftly replies. Newt looks up, slightly wide-eyed.

“Oh, yes?”, he replies, dumbfounded.

“You were going to ask me out for dinner, I presume?”, Hermann states dryly.

Newt wants to start toning it down, wants to make it just a tiny thing so Hermann doesn’t turn him down. But he stops himself, takes a quick breath.  
“Yes. Yes, I’d really.. really love that. If you want. If that’s cool.”

“Yes, a dinner date would be quite welcome.”, Hermann says, and the small smile is back again.

Newton lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, and then feels a bit silly. He can’t help but huff out a laugh. “Finally. Diner date. Okay. Alright, you get dressed and I’ll have the janitor lock the place up, won’t be long. You must be tired, we’ll get going straight away.”

Hermann draws his foot back and lifts his shoes by the satin strings, getting up as gracefully as he sat down.  
“Don’t worry. I have no other plans tonight.”

Scrambling back up onto his feet, Newt can barely hide the smile that’s threatening to crack up his face.

“I’ll meet you at the stage door?”

“Yes, Newton, I’ll be out in a few.”, Hermann replies as he slings his bag over his shoulder, making his way towards the practice room’s door.

Newt could be wrong, but he could swear this is the first time Hermann has called him by his first name. A bit to cheerfully, he runs his fingers across the whole of the piano’s keys before he slams the lid shut for the day. He hears Hermann snort from the hallways in what seems like subdued amusement.


End file.
